Monday, January 19, 2009

Q: What's more fun than sitting in a bathtub with a 4-year-old, a submarine, two hairbrushes, a helicopter, and an airplane?

A: Sitting in a bathtub with a 4-year-old, a submarine, two hairbrushes, a helicopter, an airplane, and water.

About two weeks ago, Joedy took a bath with Lula and forgot to close the drain. Fifteen minutes after starting the bath, they were still sitting in the tub in just a couple inches of water, and by the time Joedy realized he'd forgotten to lift the lever behind him, there was no hot water left. Understandably, I found this very funny.

Tonight the same thing happened to me, and it was not so funny. There we were, the three of us--Lula, the Great White Stomach, and me--huddled in three inches of lukewarm water, fighting for precious bathtub real estate while the pointy parts of miniature machines reminded us unpleasantly of their presence. Bravely, we stuck it out, and twenty-five minutes later, when the water ran hot again, Lula "washed" my hair (her technique involves a lot of forceful pressing on my head in order to submerge it, and then, once it's submerged, stringent commands to open my eyes, despite the fact that she never opens her eyes unless she has a washcloth, or, better, a giant down comforter to pat them dry with) and it was actually quite pleasant.

Today was Martin Luther King Day, so Lula and I were home together (Joedy had to work) and it was nice even though she had some behavorial dips that I attributed to tiredness and a reaction to the dry, unseasonal, windy, disgusting heat we had AGAIN and which puts me in a bad mood. Overall, since instating the Prize Box about a week ago, Lula has been really well behaved, spontaneously saying "I love you" to Joedy and me, giving us lots of hugs and kisses, patting our heads when we're lying on the couch with her, offering to do the laundry, etc. I think it's pretty clear that the Prize Box has brought about a change in her behavior, and since she's still so aware of it (she's asked almost every evening if she's been good, which I know means she's thinking about getting another reward, in the form of glitter pens or stickers or a little plastic submarine, out of the foil-wrapped box) I think we need to gradually phase it out, replacing it with the even greater reward of her parents' love and approval. Gee--lucky kid!

That's that kid. The other kid is making it very clear that he, too, has buckets o' personality, especially after his mommy has eaten. Not five seconds after I've swallowed my first bite of Garlic Lover's Delight, it's all alienesque body parts sticking out of the Great White Stomach at odd angles, and enough side-to-side jostling that I'm convinced my uterus is doubling as a lap pool. My belly button has officially popped, to the amusement of my coworkers, and mentally I'm right on the cusp of the I'm Over This stage, thinking "Two more months? That's an ETERNITY! And this stomach is going to get BIGGER!"

Two more months of growth means, of course, that I will have to keep wearing maternity clothes for a while longer. Which means that my pants will continue to fall into one of two categories:



Maternity pants, though having been blessed with the recent discovery of the Revolutionary! Amazing! Gravity-defying! technology known as the "Secret-Fit Belly," which refers to a band of stretchy material attached to the top of the pants that you're supposed to wear pulled up, over your Great White Stomach, so that under your shirt you look like a very bloated matador, still have a ways to go. My main gripe is with the sizing: you are either a slender, short person or a fat, tall person. There is very little fluctuation beyond these two categories, so my pants either fit well but are too short, or they are too big but the right length.

It is annoying, yes. But it is just one little gripe in the midst of a pregnancy that has in most ways been a breeze. Things are going well, overall--so what if my pants are falling down and you can tell I'm wearing my husband's underwear.

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